


In the Hammock

by 9r7g5h



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Also this convo needed to happen and I'm upset it didn't in canon, Because they love each other and deserve to be happy, But mostly fluff, F/F, Fluff, lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9r7g5h/pseuds/9r7g5h
Summary: In the hammock, the two of them are finally able to address the elephant in their relationship.
Relationships: Kristen Applebees/Tracker O'Shaughnessey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	In the Hammock

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Ok, look. I totally, 100% understand that they had all been playing for 8+ hours, and you forget shit when you're doing D&D for that long. However, this is a convo that needed to happen, and since it didn't in canon, I'm fixing that.

For the first few days back, they said nothing.

Not that they said _nothing_ ; their lives were full of arguments with friends, questions about Kristen’s homework, plans made to roam the city after school, Tracker and Ayda meeting up with the others once the day was done and they could move as a group (they almost always moved as a group, these days, always pairing up if they weren’t all together. It was safer, calming, a way to exist without inviting the creeping chills being alone brought in). And between the two of them, there were “I love you”s and talks about the classes Kristen needed to take for the next year to stay on track, discussions in the hammock on what kind of religion would be built around Cassandra, who was already gaining traction amongst those who felt lost and forgotten by the other gods.

In fact, the two of them talked quite a lot.

But this was the first time, since they had been home, that they really _talked_.

Tracker hadn’t been planning on them having some in depth discussion when she joined Kristen on the roof, sliding into the already occupied hammock and resting her head on Kristen’s chest. Immediately, Kristen’s hand had slid under her shirt, pressing her palm flat against the small of her back, pulling Tracker ever so closer to remove the slight bit of distance the confined spaces might have allowed. It was a common position for the two of them, the first person to their spot becoming the pillow while the other was the blanket, safe and warm and together. They would sometimes chat, but more often than not, as the heat of summer grew closer, they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, a brief kiss between them the most interaction they had.

It was when Tracker slept the deepest, in all honesty.

She had talked about it with Jawbone, about the nightmares that slid in when Kristen wasn’t next to her, when she thought herself once again alone and enraged in the forest. He had just nodded and listened, made her hot cocoa or tea, and muttered about trauma and PTSD and how he was seriously questioning the wisdom of sending children out to calm angry gods. They had worked through them the best that they could, and he had put her in contact with a friend of his when she needed more, an actual therapist who had worked with adventurers before, and that helped. Between that and hashing out the two weeks of spring break with her friends, knowing that she wasn’t alone?

They were all slowly healing, ever so slowly, but still making progress nonetheless.

But it still helped to have Kristen there, to hear her heart beating under the scar tissue that Cassandra’s unicorn had left behind, to steal her warmth and feel her chest rise and fall under her cheek, a pure sense of being home.

Gods, she loved her.

But this time, when Tracker had raised her face for a kiss, eyes already heavy, she instead found Kristen staring out into the distance, her brow furrowed, bottom lip chewed on as she thought.

Tracker knew that look. She had seen it so many times, playing across Kristen’s face as she did mental gymnastics, trying to justify some religion or another as “right” for her. But with Cassandra now in the picture, it had been a while since she had seen that face.

Reaching up, Tracker cupped Kristen’s cheek, her thumb running along her lips, breaking Kristen out of her train of thought. Immediately, Kristen’s hand reached up to cup Tracker’s, her face turning to press a kiss into her palm. A soft smile, a vague, gentle look – Kristen still wasn’t fully with her yet.

“Kristen, you ok?” Tracker moved so she was balanced on her forearm, shifting so their faces were level with each other. Here, she could examine Kristen’s face, looking for the telltale signs of something wrong, or Cassandra talking, or some other weird thing she didn’t entirely understand, despite also being a cleric. As much as she loved her goddess, Tracker hadn’t been chosen at birth like Kristen had, and the younger girl would always have some deeper connection with the celestial.

Tracker had been jealous of that at one point, but now she was glad that she hadn’t had to die twice and tell multiple gods to fuck off to finally feel settled.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Kristen finally answered, shaking her head after a moment, finishing her thought and tucking it away for later. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Wanna tell me what about?”

And there it was again – the crease of her brow, the frown, a slight hesitance that almost made it seem as if she didn’t want to speak. But, finally, Kristen did, taking a deep breath before she finally began.

“If you don’t want to talk about this, I totally understand, and we can just go back to cuddling, alright? But… I was thinking about what you said. In the forest.”

An immediate chill, despite the heat, a weight settling both in her stomach and in her throat as Kristen said those words. Tracker pushed herself up so she was sitting, Kristen following and mimicking her, the hammock shifting unsteadily under them as Tracker drew those few precious inches away.

She immediately wanted to undo her reaction, wanted instead to bury her face into Kristen’s neck, to kiss her own name where it had been tattooed onto Kristen’s skin, but it was too late.

She hated those nightmares, hated feeling the raw fury and lust for rage rising in her chest, the blood in her mouth, coating her tongue. The thorns tearing at her fur, her skin, her mind.

She wasn’t sure what she had killed, during those days lost in the forest. But they had been alive, they had been warm, and every single one of them had looked like Kristen.

And she had _enjoyed_ it. Had enjoyed Kristen’s screams as her teeth sunk into her arm, into her stomach, into her neck, claws slashing through cloth and flesh, blood spilling thick and hot down her throat, filling her belly and leaving her only that much hungrier for more. Every single bit of annoyance, every single moment she had wanted to roll her eyes at Kristen’s constant questions, every single second of resentment that she couldn’t just sit still for five minutes and accept that maybe there wasn’t a good answer, and the one that there was just had to be good enough, every negative thought Tracker had ever had throughout their relationship had powered her. When exhaustion had dragged at her, trying to force her to rest, the sound of Kristen’s voice had rung out through the branches, and Tracker had started the hunt again.

And even after they had come home, after they were safe and free and calm, part of Tracker still wanted to enjoy it. Wanted to feel the dirt under her paws, the crunch of bones in her teeth, go deaf with the sound of her girlfriend’s screams.

Jawbone theorized it was part of the trauma, a comparison of having to spend almost a week fully under the effect of the full moon instead of just a few hours each month. With luck it would fade, and sooner rather then later.

Galilea, she hoped that was true, because she was getting tired of the lingering desire to rip out Kristen’s throat every time they kissed.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Kristen said soothingly, holding up one hand in a submissive motion, her other shifting off to the side. Recognizing the spell, Tracker waited until the magic washed over them – a protection spell, warm and safe like a summer’s twilight, like Kristen’s exhausted hugs when she finally came to bed, safe and a version of home that she longed for.

“I’m ok,” Tracker finally said after a long moment, tension sliding from her limbs. She was still stiff, still felt like she was ready to bolt at any time, but she was ok. “Promise.” She threw in a smile, Kristen smiling back the best she could, though the concern was still there. “What kind of thing were you thinking about?”

Part of Tracker wanted to shut down the conversation, but if she was already feeling like this, might as well push forward and get this over with instead of having to come back to it in the future. Not a Jawbone approved method of dealing, but whatever. 

“I’m sorry for not being a better girlfriend.”

“What?”

Kristen squirmed before her, though her motions quickly stopped as the hammock beneath them rocked, their hands latching onto the sides to steady themselves. Chuckles that became almost laughter, and it felt like the piece of cling wrap that had been hanging over them had broken. Instead they both relaxed, leaning back against the two ends, their legs sliding out to intertwine between them. Tracker moved Kristen’s feet so they were in her lap, her fingers tracing light circles over the top of her foot as she listened to Kristen speak.

“I’m sorry for not being a better girlfriend,” Kristen said again, her arms crossing over her chest even as she relaxed at Tracker’s touch. “You were talking about how I was always so concerned with my own quest, with my religion, and trying to find myself. I kept things from you because it would make me more comfortable, not thinking about how it would affect you. I’ve been so obsessed with trying to find something and make it work and change the world, I haven’t really been there for you. I’m sorry.”

“Kristen…” Tracker let the words pause as she thought, trying to find a way to phrase it. After a moment she shook her head, giving her girlfriend a small smile as she continued. “Thank you, for apologizing. It really means a lot to me that you recognize all of that. And you’ve made it clear that you’re not keeping anything from me, though maybe you could ease up on telling me when you’re going to take a piss.”

Kristen shook her head and stuck out her tongue, an action that was cut short as Tracker ran her fingers on the underside of Kristen’s feet, tickling the sole of her foot. She tried to jerk back, only to find Tracker’s strong grip holding her still, quickly reducing the twilight cleric to begging for her to stop, promising that the bathroom texts would cease.

When their laughter had died down to the occasional giggle, Kristen trusting Tracker enough to put her feet back into her lap, Tracker continued with what she had to say.

“Kristen, I never blamed you for any of that religion stuff. You know that, right?” A pause, returned with a quick nod. “I offered my help, you know? It’s not like you demanded I came along to Swamp Venice; you said that was something you wanted to do, I offered to help, and we made a plan from there. I guess it’s just…” Another pause, trying to find the words to fully explain what she wanted to get across. “I want you to be happy. And you would be, for a while, only to find something wrong with whatever was going on, and then it would be back to square one. I guess it’s just frustration that nothing ever seemed good enough for you.”

“Is that why you think I’m going to leave you?”

Tracker just shrugged.

“Helio wasn’t good enough for you, when he literally chose you from every single other person on the planet. YES!/? wasn’t good enough for you, when you literally created them from scratch. None of the projects we worked on were ever good enough, we never helped enough people, and you’ve gone through multiple identity crisis before breakfast.” Tracker poked at Kristen’s ankle, half wanting to send her back into giggles, mainly because she didn’t want to say what was next. But they had promised to be open with each other, and Kristen was trying her hardest. She had to too.

“I’ve had two other girlfriends before you, you know? And for both of them, the werewolf thing was an issue. If I wasn’t enough for them, and literal gods aren’t good enough for you, what makes me think I am?”

It took a long moment for Kristen to respond, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Instead, Kristen carefully shifted to her knees and crawled into Tracker’s lap, one hand holding tight to the rope keeping the hammock up to steady herself. Her other hand tilted Tracker’s chin up, allowing Kristen to lean down and place a long, hard kiss against her lips.

“Tracker O’Shaughnessey,” Kristen said, her voice steady and almost hard, were it not for the outpouring of love coming from her words, “I am so sorry I never made it clear. You are more than enough. I know I’ve said it before, but I do want to marry you in our future. You’re everything I’ve ever could have wanted, and while your third time’s the charm, I’m so lucky to have gotten it right my first time around.”

Tracker sniffled and pulled Kristen closer, burying her face into the crook of her neck, her arms tight around her waist, Kristen’s hands running through her hair, rubbing her back, reminding Tracker that she was home. She was home, and safe, and wanted.

“Would it make you feel better if I became a werewolf too?”

For almost a full moment, Tracker considered it. Considered letting herself bite Kristen, turning her into a werewolf as well, the two of them able to run together as a pack. Part of her wanted to howl at the idea, the joyful noise almost rising in her throat. She wasn’t alone, she had her uncle and some other werewolves in town who had joined to become a lose family, but to have her _mate_ at her side? The woman she loved echoing that howl with her?

For a moment, Tracker almost considered saying yes. But she shook her head instead, reaching up to stop as Kristen made to pull off her shirt, to bare a shoulder for Tracker to bite.

“Maybe when we’re married, if that’s something you want, then I can.” Tracker leaned forward and kissed Kristen hard, hands on her back to steady her, both of them smiling into the kiss. “But would Cassandra be ok with that? Werewolves are kind of Galilea’s thing.”

Kristen tilted her head, and for a moment it wasn’t Kristen Applebees straddling her lap, but instead Saint Kristen. Her eyes went black, comets and stars and universes shimmering in her sockets instead. Her halo, normally only present at dusk, when the known of the light was giving way to the mystery of the darkness, flared behind her head, reflecting her eyes as she spoke to her goddex in her mind. Tracker couldn’t see it right this moment, but she knew behind her, Kristen’s glowing pinky had flared brighter, a guide in the night, a hand held out in the darkness to show that there was nothing to truly fear.

Tracker loved her, with all of her heart, but being in love with a saint was fucking weird.

The conversation only took a moment before Kristen shook her head, her celestial traits fading as she returned to the present, smiling widely at Tracker.

“They said it was fine with them. They’re more then willing to accept anyone, and if any werewolves want to worship them, that’s their choices as individuals who have full autonomy. It might be a bit weird, having a twilight goddex while being beholden to the moon, but they’re more then willing to work that out if it comes to that.”

Kristen leaned in and gave her one more kiss, bumping their noses together as she pulled away. “So, Tracker O’Shaughnessey, if being a werewolf would reassure you that I am not going to leave you, then _bite me_.”

Tracker laughed as her girlfriend stuck out her tongue, putting on a fake growl as her hands fell to Kristen’s hips, teasingly pulling her closer.

“Is that a demand, because it can be arranged.” A smirk and a wink, making a light flush cross Kristen’s face, which never ceased to amuse Tracker. This was the person who had chained her to the wall multiple times and done things that Tracker didn’t even dare think about around half their friends for fear of scarring them, and yet some light flirting could still make her blush.

By every holy thing in all the realms, she loved her.

“Maybe a nap first,” Kristen said, yawning through the last of her words. “I’m glad summer is only a few months away – who knew being a saint of a rediscovered goddex _and_ head of the GSA _and_ trying to maintain passing grades for high school could be so tiring? I’m honestly a bit offended I even need to go. What other cleric is going to get higher then **saint** added to their name?”

“A nap sounds wonderful.”

It took them a moment to shift without falling out of the hammock, Tracker ending up the pillow while Kristen was the blanket, but soon enough Kristen was out, snoring slightly, her head happily resting on Tracker’s shoulder. Part of Tracker felt guilty – she didn’t have a real plan, not yet, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about Galilea and what Kristen had told her, and how Tracker felt a call towards saving her wild goddess. And if they were doing in depth conversations, it might have been a good time to bring it up.

But she would tell Kristen, the moment she actually knew what she wanted to do, long before she actually put whatever plan she came up with in play.

For now though, Tracker just held her that much closer, allowing the warmth, the rise and fall of her chest, the beating of Kristen’s heart under scarred skin to lull her to sleep, reminding her that she is safe, she is wanted, and she is home.


End file.
